


Watch the lights go wild

by yourbuttervoicedbeau (kiwiana)



Series: Kink!verse [2]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Blow Jobs, F/M, Hand Jobs, I can't believe Stevie/Sebastien wasn't already a relationship tag you COWARDS, M/M, POV David Rose, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Referenced flogging, Referenced kink club, but anyway that particular part is very manipulative sex, but only towards Sebastien who is The Worst TM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:49:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24605710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwiana/pseuds/yourbuttervoicedbeau
Summary: David had been expecting Ray. He mentally prepared for Ray.He did not, for some mysterious reason, mentally prepare for the stranger who flogged him into the best night of his life in a sex club seven weeks ago.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose, Stevie Budd/Sebastien Raine
Series: Kink!verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1768552
Comments: 66
Kudos: 278





	Watch the lights go wild

**Author's Note:**

> This is a direct continuation of part 1 of this series (literally, you could paste them together without so much as a scene break), but there should be enough context provided to let you understand it if needed.
> 
> This one isn’t really kinky (unless tender smut is your kink, in which case I support your life choices), it's just lining things up. We will be back to your regularly scheduled kink in the next instalment 💚
> 
> Thanks as always to the folks in the discord for their cheerleading, and particularly to Delilah McMuffin for the very detailed Canada-picking! 
> 
> Title is from Taylor Swift.

David had been expecting Ray. He mentally prepared for Ray. 

He did not, for some mysterious reason, mentally prepare for the stranger who flogged him into the best night of his life in a sex club seven weeks ago. 

But after he blinks half a dozen times it’s still Patrick standing in front of him —  _ you’re going to be so good for me aren’t you _ Patrick,  _ let me take care of you _ Patrick,  _ you are the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen _ Patrick — with a slack-jawed expression that is slowly turning into a shocked smile. 

“You’re David Rose,” he says after a moment. “You bought the general store.”

“Leased,” David replies hoarsely, instead of what he wants to say, which might be  _ how the fuck are you here _ or maybe  _ every time I jerk off now I think about you _ or possibly, worse still,  _ I’ve really missed you. _ “Leased the general store.”

“That’s a big deal,” Patrick says, still staring at him like he’s materialised out of nowhere, as if it’s not  _ Patrick _ who turned up in  _ his _ town. 

Oh God, does he think of Schitt’s Creek as  _ his _ town now?

“Is it?” he asks faintly, over the  _ Patrick is here Patrick is here Patrick is here _ clanging in his head. 

“Yeah… it’s pretty big.” Something flickers in Patrick’s eyes as his smile turns into a smirk and David can’t stop the snort that escapes him. Then Patrick is looking at something behind David — though he can’t imagine what, since he’s pretty sure the rest of the universe fell away a few moments ago — and his tone is a lot more guarded when he adds, “You wanna have a seat?”

He dimly hears Ray’s voice behind him and — oh, right. This is not the time or place for the conversation he wants to have right now. He sinks slowly into the seat, not taking his eyes off Patrick while he settles in behind the desk.

“So,” Patrick says, clearing his throat and glancing over at Ray again. “Why don’t we start with the name of the business?”

“Um.” David is sure he had decided this, but he’s feeling off-kilter and he cannot for the life of him remember where he landed. “I’m oscillating between two names at the moment, so if we could just leave that one blank, that would be great.”

Patrick quirks his lip. “Sure, sure. Give you more time to… oscillate.” David knows he’s being laughed at, but he’s willing to give Patrick points for trying to hide it. “Business address?”

“Okay, so… I’m working on that…” David starts. 

Patrick is no longer trying to hide the fact that he’s laughing at him.

* * *

Two excruciating minutes later, David leaves Ray’s office with a blank form, the humiliating memory of his bumbling non-explanation of his store, and Patrick’s last name as printed on his business card.

It’s Brewer. Patrick  _ Brewer _ is here.

Holy  _ fuck. _

* * *

“Why are you so stressed about what some guy you’ve never met thinks of your business?” Stevie asks later, when the joint is half burned down and David’s inhibitions are just lowered enough that he can’t control his facial expression. He hopes maybe  _ she’s _ stoned enough not to notice, but… no such luck.

“He’s not a stranger?” she gasps, eyes wide. “Oh my God, David, is he some New York asshole?”

“Ew, no, God,” David says quickly. 

“Okay, well, I literally can’t think of anyone else who would get you this worked up, so,” she says, snatching the joint out of his hand. “Well, except that guy you slept with a few weeks ago, but that’s not—”

David goes very, very still. 

“Holy  _ shit,” _ Stevie yells. “Hot baby dom is  _ here? _ ”

David scowls. “I hate that I tell you things.”

“Hot baby dom is here and  _ working for Ray?” _

“I know,” David says, grabbing the joint back before she drops it. “Trust me, you are not the most shocked person in this room.”

“Hey,” she says, a wolfish smirk sliding across her face, “do you think Ray—”

“Don’t you  _ dare _ finish that sentence!” David shrieks.

She just laughs and leans over, sucking the last hit out even though it’s still in his hand.

“You’re the worst,” David mutters, pushing himself up off the floor with some effort. “I’m going to the store.”

“Say hi to hot baby dom for me!”

“His name’s  _ Patrick,” _ he snaps. Stevie’s eyes narrow like she’s storing that information away, and David immediately regrets telling her anything, ever, in his entire life. “And I’m not… I’m going to the store. Not to see him.”

“Well, best wishes to Patrick,” she says brightly.

“Warmest regards to  _ literally everyone but you,” _ he replies, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

Whoever invented voicemail should be fired.

Out of a cannon.

Directly into the sun.

Not only did he leave nine increasingly rambling messages for Patrick, he’s now managed to completely fuck up his form. He’s going to have to go and get a new one, and Patrick’s going to think he’s even more of an idiot than he invariably did this morning.

The annoying thing about all this is, he really was fine before Patrick turned up. I mean, yeah, okay, it was probably (definitely) the best sex he’s ever had, but that’s as much a reflection on past terrible sex as it is on Patrick. It gave him something good to think about in the shower, but it’s not like he’s spent the last two months moping over a complete stranger or anything. But now Patrick is actually in front of him, not just in his head, and has somehow managed to turn David into a rambling, incoherent mess.

It’s fine. This is fine. He can gather up the remaining scraps of his dignity, and he can go see Patrick again.

* * *

Is spontaneous combustion an actual thing, or an urban legend? Because when David shuffles sheepishly into Ray’s, ruined form in hand, Patrick is  _ bending over the table _ and nope, this is it, he’s going to burst into flames right here and die.

After a few seconds it becomes apparent that the universe is not actually willing to grant him this small mercy, so instead he just says, “Hi.”

Patrick whirls around, smiling when he sees David. 

“Umm, so I messed up my form, David says. “And I’m going to need another form from you.”

“Oh,” Patrick replies. “Okay.” He’s still smiling, and makes no effort to actually get him a new form.

“What?” David asks after a moment of this.

“Nothing. I just… I’m so glad you made such good use of my business card.”

If David can’t burst into flames, can he at least sink into the floor?

“I’m sorry I didn’t pick up,” Patrick continues breezily. “I was at a thing.”

“Well,” David says, clearing his throat. “Best you didn’t.”

The smallest of sparks of hope that flickers briefly in his chest immediately dies when Patrick adds, “But I got all your messages.”

“Ah,” David says, trying valiantly not to look as horrified as he feels. “Um, and just listened to the first one and then erased the rest?”

Patrick is already shaking his head. “No, I listened to all of them,” he says, his smile turning into a fully-fledged, teasing grin. “I kind of had to, to piece them together.” He looks like he’s gearing up to say something else but then David hears footsteps behind him, and Patrick’s face flickers as he lets out a huff of what might be disappointment. 

Their conversation flows much less smoothly with Ray in the background, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between them. A few minutes later, David is stumbling out the front door in a daze for the second time that day. This time he leaves with a completed set of incorporation paperwork, the warm glow of Patrick’s approval (which he steadfastly  _ refused _ to let give him an erection in the middle of Ray’s house, no matter how much it tried), and what might have been Patrick saying he’d call? Well, it was definitely Patrick saying he’d call. It just isn’t clear whether it was a business-specific offer, or… not.

David needs a fucking drink.

* * *

Patrick doesn’t call.

It’s fine. It’s  _ fine. _ David has quite enough to be getting on with anyway, actually, trying to get the store ready to open despite Alexis being more of a hindrance than a help, trying to regurgitate her business textbook that’s she’s reading at  _ high school _ even though she’s practically  _ thirty. _

Next time he goes through to the back room he stays there for a while, trying to calm his heartbeat. There’s so much to do before he can even think about a soft launch, and Alexis is making things more difficult than they need to be with her insistence on sampling everything, sample pots be damned. He takes a few deep breaths, grabs the box of hand cream Alexis had ignored, and heads back out, only to stop dead in his tracks.

Patrick is here.

Here in his  _ store. _

Here in his store with Alexis giggling and stand far closer than she needs in order to wrap a scarf around his neck.

“Um,” he starts, making them both jump. “That is actually cat hair. There’s a Himalayan breeder up the street that knits them for us.” He looks directly at Patrick. “Hi?” It’s more of a question than a greeting.

“Hi,” Patrick says. It’s fucking unfair for someone’s smile to light up their face like that. “I’m just dropping off your business licence. And… activating my allergies,” he adds ruefully.

“Oh,” David quells the disappointment rising up. Of course he’s here for a business reason. That’s fine. “In that case, you should probably take that off.” When Patrick doesn’t move, he adds, “Like, now.” The last thing he needs is Patrick — is anyone — going into anaphylactic shock before the store has even opened.

Alexis presses something into his hand as Patrick rushes to unwind the scarf. “Isn’t that the sweetest thing? He framed it.”

David glances down — and there, in a basic but serviceable frame, is the culmination of everything he’s poured into this business so far. The business licence for Rose Apothecary. He takes a deep breath and blinks a couple of times before looking back up at Patrick. 

“Um, it is very sweet,” he says, touched despite himself. “Thank you, Patrick.”

Patrick shrugs awkwardly. “Actually, they… uh, they all come framed.”

_ Of course. _ For the second time in a few minutes, he swallows back a gross, disappointed feeling.

“Okay, thank God,” he says instead. “Because I was just thinking, this frame is a little too corporate for my brand.”

A smile tugs at the corner of Patrick’s lips. He hasn’t stopped looking at David since he came in, and the air is starting to feel heated between them. They need to talk about this. David takes a step forward, opens his mouth, and— 

“David, I was just about to sample the unisex Mennonite cologne on Patrick!”

Oh God, he’d forgotten Alexis was here.

“That’s not a sample,” he snaps, flustered. “And you’ve sampled half the store at this point. We still need to  _ sell _ all this stuff.”

Alexis rolls her eyes. “Well I flattened out the lip balm, so no one’s going to notice,” she says. David ignores her in favour of glancing over at Patrick, who’s looking around the store, worry etched onto his face. 

“There’s a lot of stuff in here, David,” he says slowly. “You don’t want to spend too much money up front.”

“Yeah, that is not good, David,” Alexis chimes in. It’s amazing how what feels like genuine concern coming from Patrick makes him bristle in annoyance when it’s echoed by his sister.

“You have to be prepared to survive a full year without making any profit,” Patrick adds, and David feels a twist in his stomach. A whole year?

“Actually,” Alexis adds, “the textbooks now say eighteen months.”

Okay, no. Fuck this. 

“Well, what are the textbooks saying about curating a selection of products from local vendors and selling them on consignment in a one stop shop retail environment that benefits both the vendor and the customer?” he rushes out in a breath, daring either of them to challenge him.

Alexis says something, but David ignores her, too distracted by the way Patrick’s face shifts into… well, actually, he looks pretty impressed.

“I stand corrected,” he says, grinning, and David can’t help but smile back even as the tone of Patrick’s voice makes his toes curl. Fuck, his reactions to Patrick are downright embarrassing. “Listen, if you need help, I’m happy to help.”

David blinks. He can’t figure out if it’s a genuine offer, or if Patrick thinks he can’t do this on his own, or if it’s an excuse for them to spend some time together. It’s starting to make his head spin.

“Um, why?” he jokes. “Alexis is here helping.”

Patrick looks like he’s holding in a laugh with some difficulty. 

“Well, no,” Alexis says, “if Patrick has offered to move all the boxes, then I think we should let him.”

“Is that what I offered?” Patrick asks. He shoots a grin at David, like they’re sharing a private joke, and David grins back despite himself.

“Okay,” he says softly. “Well… thank you, Patrick.”

“You’re welcome,” Alexis says, and David rolls his eyes at her. “Okay, so you can start by  moving all of those big things of hand cream,” she adds to Patrick, and David wants to take control of his own store, but… that is actually the next thing that needs to be done, so.

Patrick gives David an inscrutable look before taking the box through to the back. As soon as he’s out of sight Alexis gestures at him; in response, David tries to wordlessly signal her to leave, but she suddenly seems to not be able to understand clear symbols. 

Their silent conversation is interrupted by the reappearance of Patrick. For the next couple of hours David tries a few different techniques to get rid of Alexis, but she is an infuriating combination of oblivious and annoying. In the end it’s Patrick who leaves first, looking ruefully at his watch and saying something about a meeting.

“I’ll be back,” he says quietly to David while Alexis is distracted by the lip balms. “Maybe one day we’ll have a conversation without someone else hovering around.”

“Apparently not,” David sighs.

* * *

David spends the rest of the day into the next morning vacillating wildly between ‘maybe he’s interested’ and ‘he’s obviously not interested’, and he’s emotionally wrung out by the time Patrick arrives close to lunchtime, which means his brain immediately catastrophises.

It’s a whiplash of a conversation. Patrick talks about the business, doesn’t mention their history at all, and by the time David’s brain has caught up with what’s going on Patrick is offering to join Rose Apothecary. And really, David should put a lot more thought into what that would actually mean, but he can’t get past the thought of getting to work with Patrick every day and he’s agreeing almost before he realises, giving Patrick a copy of the store key and everything.

“You do know, though,” he says, “that if the grant money doesn’t come through then I won’t be able to pay you?”

“Oh, I’m gonna get the money,” Patrick replies. And his voice is low and confident and it sends such a visceral memory of the last time he heard that tone through David that he whimpers, his knees buckling slightly. He braces himself on the counter and flushes, resolutely avoiding Patrick’s eyes. 

There’s a long silence before Patrick clears his throat. “And, uh, that brings me to the second thing I wanted to talk to you about.” 

David scrunches his eyes closed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He knew this was coming, but it still hurts. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” he says quickly. “It’s fine if you don’t want—” 

“Oh, no,” Patrick interrupts in that infuriatingly sexy tone. “Believe me, David, I want.”

For at least five seconds, David actually forgets how to breathe. He stares hard at the ceiling, pulse rushing in his ears. 

“Oh,” he says, once he has enough oxygen to do so. “So then… what did you want to talk to me about?”

“We did all this in the wrong order,” Patrick says slowly. “I flogged you, then you gave me a blowjob, then I kissed you. I just want to take a minute and... reset, I guess.” 

“Reset like… a blowjob without the flogging?” David’s confused. Why would Patrick want to go backwards?

Patrick laughs, shaking his head. “I was thinking more, reset like I take you out on a date.”

“Oh.” Patrick wants to  _ date _ him? That doesn’t feel like going backwards at all. It feels more like… a course correction, of sorts. “Um, I feel like I should warn you that date locations around here are extremely limited.”

“Are you sure?” Patrick asks with a grin. “Because I’ve heard the food at the café is moderately edible.”

“There’s a good chance they paid for that review,” David shoots back. 

“I’m willing to risk it,” Patrick says. “Eight o’clock?”

David nods. “Eight’s good.”

* * *

When David breezes into the café just five minutes after eight Patrick is sitting at a booth looking almost comically overdressed in a navy blazer. A wide smile spreads over his face as David slides into the seat opposite him, and David squirms under the intensity of it.

“Look at you, all dressed up like it’s a proper first date,” he says. 

Patrick frowns at him, puzzled. “It… is a proper first date,” he says carefully. “Or… I thought I’d been pretty clear. If you’re not into it—”

“No!” David blurts out. “I mean — yes, I want it to be a date, I just—” he huffs out a sharp breath, frustrated. “I just meant, you know, it’s not like…” He keeps waiting for Patrick to rescue him, but he’s just sitting there, intent and a little amused. “You know what I mean,” he says finally.

“David, I don’t,” Patrick grins. 

“I just… isn’t it a bit like watching the preview after you’ve already seen the movie?”

Patrick laughs out loud at that, which is a little insulting. “David,” he says softly, reaching across the table to take his hand, “that’s not… I want to date you, okay? Irrespective of… what we did before. In this slightly confusing analogy, being with you  _ is _ the movie. So can we just treat this like any other first date?” 

David didn’t think people this goddamn earnest were actually real, before Patrick. “Okay,” he agrees quietly.

“Okay,” Patrick says before leaning in, clasping his hands together. “So, David, tell me about yourself. What do you like to for fun?”

“Well,” David pretends to think. “You know, there are just so many options here, it’s hard to keep track. Besides, I’m really focused on my business right now. I just got a new business partner, I have to keep him in line.”

“Huh,” Patrick says, face comically serious. “He must be a real asset to you.”

“We’ll see,” David says archly, and Patrick grins. “Let’s see, what else? Oh, a couple of months ago I went to a sex club and had an amazing night with a guy I met there.”

Patrick bursts out laughing even as he turns an almost alarming shade of crimson. “Is that your usual first date conversation?”

“Mm-hmm, yep. You can tell by my multiple functional, long-term relationships that it’s a highly successful technique.”

“Well,” Patrick says, face softening into a more honest smile. “For what it’s worth, he probably had a phenomenal night with you, too.”

Now it’s David’s turn to blush. “You think so?”

“I do. You probably helped a few things click into place for him.”

There’s a lump in David’s throat that he has to swallow twice to shift. “Well,” he says thickly after a moment, “I hope that worked out for him.”

“It did,” Patrick says quietly, not breaking eye contact. “He’s on a first date right now, grateful for a frankly unbelievable set of coincidences that got him exactly where he needs to be.”

David remembers thinking, the first time he met Patrick, that the sincerity in his voice could ruin him if he let it. He's sure now that he couldn’t stop it if he tried, and even more terrifyingly, he doesn’t think he wants to. 

Patrick Brewer is going to ruin him, and he’s going to love every minute of it.

* * *

The short drive back to the motel is charged, a crackling sort of anticipation that David feels in his bones. When they pull up outside room six they just look at each other for a long moment, and David is just about to make a joke to break the tension when Patrick’s eyes flicker down to his lips and back up. 

David can take a hint. He could pour the last couple of months of wanting into it, and he thinks Patrick would respond well. But Patrick asked for a reset, took him on a date, and has spent the whole night getting to know David even though he already knows what David looks like when he comes. So if he wants a first date kiss, David will damn well give it to him. 

He slides his hand gently along Patrick’s jaw until his thumb is just in front of Patrick’s ear, noticing the way his rings seem to heat up where they come to rest against Patrick’s skin. He uses the light touch to angle his face up, just slightly, before leaning in as slow as he can bear it. Patrick’s eyes stay locked on his lips the whole time; it’s only when the kiss finally connects that his eyelids flutter shut. 

David is, if he says so himself (and he does, regularly), a pretty masterful kisser. It starts with the softest brush of lips, a touch so light you could almost think you were dreaming it. He waits for — yes, there it is, thank you Patrick — a breath, a gasp, something, before opening his mouth just enough to let the other person’s lower lip slide in between both of his own. 

Genevieve told him once that he kisses like he’s asking for permission; she meant it as an insult, but David rather likes the description. He lets his tongue brush along Patrick’s lip and is rewarded with a moan, which has the added bonus of giving him enough room to slide his tongue into Patrick’s mouth. As soon as their tongues press together Patrick’s hands are flying up to frame David’s face and then he’s not so much kissing as being kissed, thoroughly and unrepentantly, by a Patrick who is making the hottest, neediest little sounds David has ever heard. He kisses David like a drowning man, like he’s been waiting for years, but that can’t be right because David has it on very good authority that he had a searingly hot kiss in a club just a couple of months ago. 

The realisation that Patrick might have been thinking about that night as much as he has almost undoes him completely. 

It’s Patrick who pulls back eventually, after a few minutes or maybe fourteen years. He’s panting, his lips swollen and his eyes a little glassy, and God, if David died right now and this was the last thing he ever saw he would die a very happy man. 

“Thank you, David,” he whispers after a moment, still a little breathless, and David wonders what else he can do to be thanked like that. “Can we talk tomorrow?”

David nods. “We can talk any time you like.”

* * *

When David arrives at the store the next morning Patrick is already there, methodically working his way through a box of sunscreen adding labels. From the looks of the table, he’s gone through half the stock. His head whips up when David unlocks the door and the smile that spreads across his face makes David’s breath hitch in his chest.

“Hi,” he says quietly, walking over to kiss Patrick on the cheek.

“Hey.” And — is Patrick  _ blushing? _ Over a kiss on the cheek?

David clears his throat. “Someone’s been busy,” he says, gesturing to all the freshly-labelled bottles stacked in neat rows.

Patrick glances at the table and then back to David. “Yeah,” he says, a little guiltily. “I’ve been up since five. Could not sleep. Been thinking about… stuff. You know, last night.” And he  _ looks _ happy, but David has misread situations like this before.

“Regrets?” he asks before he can stop himself. 

“What?” Patrick says, his jas dropping open. “No! Why would I have regrets?”

“I don’t know,” David shrugs awkwardly. “I think it’s a habit to ask.”

“Well,” Patrick says quietly. “No regrets, except—”

David sucks in a harsh breath.

“—that we didn’t plan our second date yet,” he continues, and David lets all the air out of his lungs in a rush.

“Oh my God,” he mutters, and then adds: “Keen to get to the third date, are we?”

Patrick freezes. “Um,” he says carefully, “I… may need to take this slow?”

“Slow,” David repeats, brain whirring. “Patrick, the first time we met—”

“I know, that’s the problem!” Patrick interrupts, before quickly adding “David, no, that’s not what I meant,” at the hurt that David was too slow to stop flashing over his face. 

“Okay,” David says firmly. “I need caffeine. I’m going to get me a coffee, and you a tea, and then we’ll talk, okay?”   


Patrick nods, looking frustrated as David turns to leave the store.

David spends the whole time in the café trying to silence the buzzing in his brain. Patrick asked  _ him _ out in the first place, said he didn’t have regrets, said he wants a second date, so it can’t be that he found touching David so horribly distasteful that he wants to put it off for as long as possible.

Probably.

When he returns to the store Patrick rushes to open the door for him, even though he got a carrier and does actually have a hand free. He’s barely inside when Patrick takes both drinks off him, setting them down on the counter before coming back to where David is hovering awkwardly, wrapping both arms around his waist and tipping his head back to kiss him. It’s almost definitely not the sort of kiss you give someone you’re trying to let down easily, and David lets himself relax into it.

When Patrick pulls away he’s breathing hard, and the look in his eyes is extremely gratifying. 

“David,” he says, still sounding a little breathless, “you have to know, me wanting to go slow, it’s not about you. You know that, right?”

David doesn’t know, actually, but Patrick is looking at him with such wide, honest eyes he can’t help but believe him.

“Can you just… tell me what you mean? So I know, um,” he starts, unsure how to finish his question.

“Okay, David,” Patrick says, taking a deep breath. “I just… I told you, the night we met, that I’d never done that before, with a guy.”

David nods. “Hell of a first time,” he jokes, and Patrick laughs.

“Yeah. Um, before I met you, I didn’t… I hadn’t ever really considered that I might be into guys.”

David’s mouth drops open. The level of confidence, to go from ‘I’m straight’ to… what Patrick did with him —  _ holy shit. _

“And everything felt so different with you, but I thought maybe — I figured it was, you know, the situation, making everything feel more… I don’t know, heightened.”

David nods sharply. He’s well aware that sex can trick you into thinking you feel more than you do; he’s done it a hundred times.

“But,” Patrick continues, “last night, when you kissed me — that felt like my first time. All those things that you’re supposed to feel, I felt them last night — and I realised I felt them then, too. I just got so swept up in the moment that I didn’t recognise them for what they were. And I just — this is all new for me, and I don’t want to… race past the getting-to-know-you part.”

“Oh,” David chokes out. He clears his throat and tries again. “It’s just that, um, if we’re being honest, historically, the getting-to-know-you part is where people tap out, so.”

Patrick frowns. “Well then, historically, people have been idiots.”

“I mean, you’re not wrong,” he laughs, Patrick’s sincerity freeing something in his chest. “I honestly don’t know if I’ve ever been with someone I respected, or cared about, or… thought was nice. Before.”

Patrick steps back into his space with a small smile, sliding his hands around to David’s back, and David brings his arms up to rest on top of Patrick’s shoulders automatically. “Thank you, David,” he says. “And for the record, I also respect you and think that you’re a good person.”

“Mm,” David says, recognising the teasing for what it is; a way to lighten the conversation. “It’s just, I said  _ nice _ person.”

“I know,” Patrick grins, leaning in to kiss him again. And David wants to get swept away in it, but — 

“I just need you to say  _ nice _ person.” 

“You’re a good person,” Patrick insists.

“That’s not nice.”

Patrick’s grin turns positively dangerous. “I seem to recall you telling me you hoped I wasn’t nice the night we met.”

“And look where it got me,” David sighs before leaning into the kiss again.

* * *

David forgot. That’s always his mistake. He forgot that the universe hates him, forgot that any time he has the slightest bit of happiness something comes along to fuck it up. 

This time, it comes along in the form of Sebastien Raine.

When his mom says Sebastien is coming here, to Schitt’s Creek, he goes running to the sanctuary of the store… and, he’s not ashamed to admit, of Patrick.

He fills Patrick in on a little bit of their history, skimming lightly over the worst parts of it with a joke like he always does, and Patrick sees right through it like  _ he _ always does. He presses soft little kisses into David’s shoulder while he talks, and somehow it’s a thousand times more fortifying than some passionate makeout session.

Of course, they have several of those throughout the day too, which helps.

“You are so much better than that asshole,” Patrick whispers into the crook of his neck before they leave the store that night, and it’s that assertion which gets him through the awkwardness that is seeing Sebastien again in the motel the next morning. Patrick’s at some seminar all day, so David spends the day alone in the store stewing over what fuckery Sebastien is going to rain down on his family this time.

When his mom comes home and tells him what Sebastien did, he feels sick. And what’s worse is she truly doesn’t seem to understand just how bad this could get.

He can’t let Sebastien leave here with those photos, but he doesn’t know what to do to stop it.

He knows what he  _ would _ do. He knows what would work.

But, Patrick.

But, his mom.

He sits for a long time, thinking it through. Eventually he reaches a decision, and picks up his phone.

This is, without a doubt, the worst, most selfish thing he has ever asked of anyone.

* * *

He hovers outside Sebastien’s door that night feeling sick.

_ It’s fine, _ he tries to tell himself. Everyone is going into this with eyes wide open. Well, except Sebastien, but fuck that guy.

There’s a shuffling from Sebastien’s room and David ducks back behind the vending machine just in time to see him and Stevie stumble out and towards the office. She’s giggling something about an office fantasy and David wants to tell her she’s laying on the whole ‘drunk and horny’ thing a little thick, but Sebastien is literally incapable of paying attention to anyone but himself, so it’s probably fine. She makes a little ‘okay’ symbol behind her back as they pass the vending machine, and David ducks around the other side of it before they reach the office door. He waits until they’re both inside before making a beeline for Sebastien’s room.

It’s a mess. Was Sebastien always this much of a slob? He picks his way carefully through the junk strewn all over the floor, careful not to disturb anything and looking wildly around for his camera. It’s not immediately visible, so he has to start carefully picking up items of clothing and replacing them again, going as quickly as he dares, which isn’t very.

He finally finds the camera under a jacket on top of the microwave — why?? — and has just slipped the storage card out of its slot and into his pocket when he hears Stevie’s raised voice outside.

“Are you  _ sure _ you don’t want to in the office?” she’s asking, her voice a little frantic.

_ Oh, fuck. _ David glances around wildly, but there’s only one option available to him. He jumps into the closet — which Sebastien hasn’t bothered to use, thank God — and sits down before pulling the door most of the way shut behind him just as the room door clicks open. 

“It just doesn’t have the kind of eroticism I need for our encounter to be truly… sensual,” Sebastien is saying, and for fuck’s sake, was he always this much of a dick? Did David really fall for this? The answer is yes on both counts, and he hates himself for it.

There’s a long silence, in which David can only hear his pulse racing in his ears. Then there’s the sound of fabric hitting the floor, and a wet sort of — 

Oh, God, oh fuck. Somehow, it is only now occurring to him exactly what sitting in this closet means he’ll have to  _ listen _ to. And it’s not like he hasn’t heard both of them before, but… still. This is very, very incorrect.

He digs his nails into his palms, and tries to will himself anywhere but here. He tries to sing ‘Heads, Shoulders, Knees and Toes’ in his head in French and is shocked to realise he remembers all the words, despite it being far longer than his school français than he’d like to admit. He goes through it again, and then a third time while he tenses the muscles in each body part as he thinks about them.

A deep moan cuts through his internal singalong, followed by a higher-pitched and much more bored-sounding one. Stevie didn’t sound that bored when she was with him, did she? David can’t help feeling a little smug.

Another moan.  _ Tête, épaules, genoix et pieds, _ David tells himself desperately.

The sounds of skin slapping together speed up.  _ Genoux et pieds, genoux et pieds. _ David’s  _ genoux et pieds _ are starting to cramp up, and this seems like as safe a time as any to stretch them out in front of him. 

_ Les yeux, le nez, la bouche et deus oreilles, _ he tells himself desperately when Sebastien starts grunting. He can’t believe he ever used to love that sound.

He knows exactly when Sebastien comes, with a long satisfied groan. Stevie makes possibly the fakest orgasm noise he’s ever heard in his life but of course, Sebastien doesn’t seem to notice. That tracks.

It’s only when the sound of soft snores fill the room that David realises just how thoroughly he has fucked up by climbing into this closet. Because Sebastien Raine is a great many things but he is not, in any way shape or form, a deep sleeper. He’s trapped here until morning.

There’s a ‘deep in the closet’ joke here somewhere, but he can’t quite articulate it. 

He’s unlikely to sleep here, so he casts around for something else to keep his mind entertained. What else did he learn in French? 

_ Regardez! Qu’est-ce que c’est? C’est un crayon! C’est un crayon! Regardez! Qu’est-ce-que c’est? C’est un livre! C’est un livre! _ Are those the right genders? What makes a pencil gendered? How does gendered language even work in the age of more non-binary representation? How could… 

* * *

David jolts awake with a start to the muffled sound of what he thinks is a door being kicked. It takes him a moment of disorientation to remember where he is and why his back feels like it’s been trampled. Then he’s blinking as light spills into the closet and when his eyes clear there’s Stevie, looking panicked and still doing her bra up.

“Holy  _ fuck, _ David,” she hisses. “Please tell me you managed to get it, because that was  _ not _ worth it otherwise.”

David reaches a hand into his pocket to check and is relieved to find the card still there. “Got it,” he whispers as he clambers awkwardly out of the closet, stretching his stiff limbs. He throws Stevie her shirt where it landed in the sink before pouring a glass of water, drinking half of it, and then dunking the card in it. He stomps it under his foot for good measure before putting it back in his pocket.

He can hear voices outside; Sebastien and… his mother?

“I really have to go,” Stevie whispers and he nods, waving her on. He creeps closer to the door as she slips out of it so he can make out what’s happening.

“I have, and I will again,” his mom is saying. “If you’re planning to capitalize on those images— Stevie?”

“Um, hi, Mrs Rose,” she mutters, and then David can hear her stomping off towards the office.

“You just have to trust me,” Sebastien says without so much of a word of acknowledgement to Stevie. Asshole. “With this work you will, once again, sit atop the summit of cultural conversation with your inspired unfettering.”

He is so full of shit, and David once ate this up. God, he hates himself.

“I’d love to believe you, but there’s a big fat line between charm and bullshit, as apparently Stevie learned last night,” his mom says. “Give me your camera.”

Jackpot. David has never claimed not to thrive on drama. He pulls the door open and strides out, enjoying the dumbfounded look on Sebastien’s face immensely.

“David!” she cries. “I’m having a hard time landing on surprise or betrayal.”

“So am I,” Sebastien mutters. 

“Give me the memory card, Sebastien,” she says, apparently content to yell at David later. Sebastien clenches his jaw.

“Oh, you mean this memory card?” David asks, pulling it out of his pocket. “Yeah, I’d give it back but… I don’t think it will be of much use to you. It accidentally fell out of your camera into my hand while you were out with Stevie last night. And then it fell out of my hand into my drink. And then I stepped on it a lot.”

Sebastien is more furious than David has ever seen him, and it’s a better revenge than any other he could have come up with.

“It was really good to see you, Sebastien,” he lies through his teeth. “Good luck with the rest of the project.”

“But what about sweet Paul?” his mom asks as they walk away. 

“Oh, I didn’t have to let Sebastien lay a finger on me,” he grins. “We owe Stevie a really nice bottle of wine, though. Or… actually, maybe lots of cheap bottles.”

* * *

When Alexis brings lice home from school, Patrick invites him to stay over.

“What happened to going slow?” David asks, even as excitement flutters in his stomach. Patrick flushes.

“It’s not— I mean, we don’t—” Patrick huffs out a frustrated breath. “Ray will be home, so it’s not like we could— but I’d like to spend the night with you, David,” he finishes softly. And there’s no way David can resist kissing him after that, so he doesn’t.

They go to the café for dinner, drawing it out as long as possible, but when they get to Patrick’s there’s still forty excruciating minutes of conversation with Ray before they manage to make their way upstairs — which Patrick informs him once they’re in his room is actually impressively short. David barely hears him, staring in horror at the decor spread throughout the room.

“It came like this,” Patrick says quickly, and David lets out a breath.

“Oh, thank  _ God,” _ he says with feeling. Patrick laughs and lets him use the bathroom first.

When he comes back he settles cross-legged on the bed, and Patrick kisses him deeply before taking his turn in the shower. He’s in there a while, and David’s mind starts wandering to what he might be doing in there before he yanks it back with force. They’re going  _ slow, _ and that’s  _ fine, _ but there’s no need to make things more difficult for himself.

When Patrick slips back into the room, David grins. Even his pyjamas are blue, and he looks far cuter than anyone in cheap three-pack sleepwear has any right to. Patrick’s looking at him with wide eyes and a small smile, and David squirms under it.

“What?” he asks, but Patrick just shakes his head.

“Just having a moment,” he says. “Should we get into bed?”

_ Going slow, _ David reminds himself at the heat that runs through him with those words. He slips off the bed to slide under the covers and Patrick flicks off the light before he does the same, and then they’re lying in bed nose to nose, fuzzy shapes in the dark. 

“Can you tell me where your boundaries are tonight?” David whispers. He’s thrumming with anticipation but is surprised to realise he’d be perfectly happy with making out for a bit and falling asleep; it’s not a feeling he’s used to, but everything feels good, with Patrick.

“Um,” Patrick says. “Is hands above the waist okay?”

“God, yes,” David whispers, and then Patrick is tucking into him before he leans in to kiss David. It’s not a goodnight kiss; it’s a kiss full of promise, and David can’t help the groan that escapes his lips as Patrick slides a hand up his back.

“Shhh,” he whispers, pulling David closer still until they’re flush together before deepening the kiss again, a little desperately. His hips are rolling in lazy, almost unconscious circles and David presses against his chest just slightly, not enough to push him away but enough to get his attention.

“We could—” he gasps, “if you wanted to, we could—” but he can’t find the words, so instead he just rocks their hips together with more deliberation.

“Yeah,” Patrick whispers. “I want, David, God. Is that — is that too weird?”

“Not if it makes you feel good,” David murmurs, and Patrick’s eyelids flutter shut.

“You too,” he says, and David chuckles.

“Trust me, that’s not a problem,” he says. And because it’s dark and Patrick makes him feel brave, he adds, “Everything feels good, with you.”

“Fuck,  _ David,” _ he groans, and then he rolls over so he’s lying on top of David. He grinds down with purpose and then groans again, loudly.

“Kiss me,” David says frantically, and it’s only 40% because of Ray. “Kiss me, Patrick,” and Patrick does, sloppy and frantic while he thrusts again. David’s almost stupidly hard, and the only thing that stops it being embarrassing is that he can feel Patrick is in the same state, hot and heavy against him. 

They’re not even kissing anymore; just panting into each other’s mouths as they rut frantically against each other. “David,” Patrick gasps. “David, David, David.” He says David’s name like it’s part prayer, part wish, part promise, and David’s never going to tire of hearing it. He’s so lost in listening to it that his orgasm takes him almost by surprise, rolling through him behind the warmth of Patrick’s attention; Patrick watches it consume him, pupils blown, and comes hard with David’s name still on his lips.

* * *

David is finding it harder and harder to reconcile Club Patrick and This Patrick. This Patrick is so tender, so careful; he treats David like he’s something to be treasured and savoured. It’s almost enough to make him think that Club Patrick was some kind of fever dream borne of sexual frustration, except that occasionally, just occasionally, he peeks his head above the parapet.

Like right now, just a few days before their soft launch.

“You have a sloppy mouth,” Patrick says with the hint of a smirk on his face, and it’s so blatantly Club Patrick that David almost drops to his knees, right there in the middle of the store. And it’s not like they’re open yet, so he could technically… 

_ Slow. _ Right. It’s been a week since their night at Ray’s and they’ve dry-humped each other in the back room more times than is strictly professional since, but they still haven’t done anything that requires clothes actually coming off.

Then again… Patrick is not the kind of person who says things without thinking them through.

“I’ll show you a sloppy mouth,” he volleys back, watching with delight as Patrick’s cheeks flush a violent pink before he grins.

“Go on, then,” he says, challenging, and then David is across the store without realising how he got there, practically shoving Patrick into the back room, kissing him desperately. He presses Patrick against the wall and sinks to his knees, undoing the ugly brown belt before making short work of the fly. His mouth is already watering when he tugs Patrick’s jeans and underwear down to his thighs, freeing that gorgeous cock he hasn’t laid eyes on for months now.

There’s a low groan from above him, and he reluctantly drags his gaze up to Patrick’s face. He’s staring down at David, eyes wide, but he’s smiling.

“I forgot how fucking good you look like that,” he whispers, and David sucks in a breath.

“Patrick,” he groans, and Patrick’s smile turns into a full-blown predatory grin.

“You know I love it when you beg, David.”

David shudders. 

“Please, Patrick,” he moans. “I can’t stop thinking about sucking your dick, I fucking dream about it, I need it, please can I,  _ please…” _

“Holy shit,” Patrick whispers, and then a bit louder, “yeah, go on David, suck me.”

He lets his mouth fill with saliva before wrapping his lips around Patrick; if he wants a sloppy mouth David will damn well give him one. He can feel the spit sliding down his chin as he moves down the shaft, keeping his eyes locked on Patrick’s the whole time, who’s just staring down at him with something akin to amazement. 

David knows how to draw out a blowjob until the person he’s sucking is sobbing and shaking and desperate. And one day, he’ll do that to Patrick. But right now  _ he’s _ the desperate one; desperate to make Patrick fall apart, desperate to taste him. He feels wild with want and he quickly undoes his pants, shoving a hand down them to try and get a bit of relief.

“Hands off your dick, David,” Patrick says firmly, not two seconds after he’s finally wrapped his hand around it; he whines but obeys, bringing his hand up to Patrick’s thigh instead. It’s not fucking fair that Patrick can sound like  _ that _ right now and it’s clearly a sign that David needs to redouble his efforts. He pulls off with a loud pop, replacing his lips with his hand while bending down to suck Patrick’s balls into his mouth.

“Jesus,  _ fuck,” _ Patrick yelps. There’s a loud thunk and David looks up in alarm, but it’s just Patrick dropping his head back against the wall. “I’m— fuck, David, I’m so—”

He releases Patrick’s balls and takes the head of his cock back in his mouth, teasing his tongue along the slit once, twice, and then Patrick is grabbing frantically at his hair as he comes with a strangled yell. David takes it, swallowing it down, not moving until he’s tasted every drop and Patrick is starting to soften in his mouth.

“Come up here, David,” Patrick says softly, and it’s only when he starts to stand that David remembers how blindingly fucking hard he is. He groans, the slight movement creating enough friction that the desperation to come shoots right through him. Patrick takes him by the arms, spins them both around so they’ve changed places, David now pressed against the wall.

“You remember what your other option was, at the club?” Patrick asks quietly as he pulls David’s trousers underwear down just far enough to get access to his cock.

David does.  _ I wrap my hand around this gorgeous dick and stroke it nice and slow, take my time, watch you come apart. _ He’d chose to come with Patrick’s dick down his throat instead, and it had been worth it, but  _ holy fuck. _

“Yeah, yes, please,” he moans. “But I don’t know if you’re gonna be able to take your time.”

Patrick hums. “Maybe next time, then,” he says, and then he’s wrapping a hand around him and fuck, the pressure is perfect and the pace is perfect and Patrick is perfect and he’s about to come awfully, embarrassingly fast.

“Fuck, fuck, Patrick,” he gasps, and Patrick captures his lips in a filthy kiss.

“Come on, David, come for me, let me see you,” he says, and David comes so hard he sees stars.

* * *

Their soft or maybe semi-firm store launch happens on a Friday, with most of Schitt’s Creek turning up to ogle the store and maybe buy a product or two. They’re too busy to speak for most of the night, but they keep catching each others’ eyes across the store and grinning.

It’s late when they usher the last of the patrons out the door, and even later by the time they’ve cleaned up all the carnage left behind.

“You did it,” Patrick says, and David shakes his head.

_ “We _ did it,” he insists.

Patrick grins widely at him. “We did it,” he agrees. David really likes hearing him say ‘we’.

* * *

A week later, David’s already in an awful mood when he arrives at the store, and it isn’t helped by Patrick grinning at him when he walks in and then pulling out a cupcake from somewhere behind the counter. 

David groans. “Okay, who could have possibly told you?”

“Told me what?” Patrick looks genuinely confused, but there’s no other reason for the grin and the cupcake, so—

“That… it’s my birthday?”

Patrick’s whole face lights up; it’s immediately clear that he did not, in fact, know.

“Well, happy birthday!” he says, delighted. “How old are we?”

David shoots him a look that he very much hopes conveys where Patrick can shove that question. 

“Why the cupcake, if not for… that?”

“Oh,” Patrick’s smile flickers just slightly. “It’s, um, our one-month anniversary?”

“It’s our  _ what,” _ David says flatly. 

“It’s a month since we—”

“Yes, I understand what an anniversary  _ is,” _ David cuts in quickly. “But don’t you think celebrating a month is… tempting fate?”

Patrick shrugs. “Well, if you don’t want the cupcake…”

“Okay, well, I didn’t say  _ that,” _ David says quickly, grabbing it off the counter and taking a bite before Patrick can confiscate it. 

* * *

The next morning, there’s a dead body at the motel.

“Come over,” Patrick says, almost before David has finished explaining.

David smirks. “Eager, are we?”

“Ray has poker tonight. We’ll have the house to ourselves for a while.”

“Mm,” David says, tucking his lips under his teeth. “And you’re thinking facemasks, a movie, truth or dare…”

“Actually,” Patrick says steadily, “I’m thinking I lay you out on my bed and find out how good you look when I fuck you.”

David can work with that.

**Author's Note:**

> This has got us back in line with canon — the end of this fic syncs up with the end of 4.01, and going forward you can assume the broad strokes of canon will be the same. Just add a month to the length of their relationship :)
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! Come and find me on [Tumblr](http://yourbuttervoicedbeau.tumblr.com).


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